Stop!
by ThatClutzsarahh
Summary: Olivia has something important to say, but Peter just won’t stop. A collection of potential Polivia moments. Light, cute moments.
1. Chapter 1

**So This is a little piece that has been dangling around in my mind for quite sometime. I think I'll start this little Peter/Olivia short story collection with this being the first piece. Or maybe it'll just be a one-shot. Either way, I'd love to here what you think.**

**It was inspired by the song Don't Say by St. Lola in the Fields.**

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It was the winter. Light, white snow lined the ground outside her home in Boston. Inside, Olivia sat on the couch, wrapped in a light colored blanket with a cup of coffee in one hand and the other was fisted in her blonde hair that was slung gracefully over her shoulder. She stared down into her cup as the coffee swirled around. Peter was standing in front of her, pacing. He was upset at her again and whatever stern, cynical words he was saying, she couldn't hear them this time because she blocked them out. They were always the same-how dangerous it was for her, what his father did was wrong, how he wants her to be safe. When she didn't listen he'd get angry. That was Peter. She sighed heavily and drank a long sip of coffee, only to put the mug down and come face to face with a very angry Peter.

"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?" he asked harshly.

"Yes Peter," she said, looking him in the eyes. There was a deep growl coming from his throat and he threw his hands up in the air and made a fist, spinning around so his back was to her.

"Olivia, don't you get it? I just want to keep you safe! You can't keep agreeing to my fathers' crazy ideas! You're going to get yourself hurt or worse – killed! How can I love with that Olivia? I can't see you keep getting hurt! I care about you-"

Olivia turned away, her eyes forcefully watering. She tried so hard to choke them back.

_Don't fight, don't fight, don't fight_, she repeated to herself over and over again. She didn't want to argue anymore. She didn't want to be angry with him (and herself) and watch him leave. She didn't want to here him say he's leaving this time. That would break her apart.

"I don't know what to do Olivia," came the voice of Peter again, "I try so hard to keep you safe, but you just go running around with my father and his mad ideas! I don't want to leave you Livia, but I'm afraid-"

She sniffled back tears as she watched him pace the floor. She wanted him so very much, but she couldn't tell him. How could she say-

"-Liv, you're all I have."

He spoke the words she was thinking. He was staring at her and she carefully lifted her eyes to meet his. The strength of her gaze dropped him to his knees in front of her on the couch. Her eyes were watery, but they showed no signs of spilling over. His brow (that was knitted together once from anger) knitted together in confusion. He reached for her cheek, but she stared, wide eyed at him and moved from his hand.

"Oliv-"

But she turned her face away from him. Taking another sip from her coffee she looked back at Peter, whose face was a mix between hurt and confusion from what she had (not) said. He stared at her as the tears gathered more and more in her eyes.

"Peter," she whispered. At once, all the anger in Peter's body fell away and he enveloped her in a hug. She buried her face in his bicep, the strong muscle flexing as his fingers stroked her back. Her eyes, water threatening to spill, squeezed shut against the fabric as she breathed in his sent.

"I don't want you to get hurt," he whispered, his scruff scratching the side of her face as he whispered in her ear. She inhaled a choked breath in his shirt and he kissed the top of her head.

"I don't want you hurt," he repeated, trying to soothe her. How come he's never noticed how sad she looked when he spoke to her that way? Guilt racked his body and he looked up at the ceiling.

"You're all I have Olivia," he said again, looking at the ceiling, "I can't live without you. I can't lose you."

Olivia pulled back and looked into his eyes, smoldering green eyes that stared into hers. She blinked and half-smiled at him.

"Peter," she said in a whisper, "You're all I have."

The breath he didn't know he was holding was expelled in an instant and he was at a loss for words then. Her words rang so true in her eyes that he didn't know what to do. Kissing her would over stepped their boundaries, but then again they've over stepped them quite sometime ago. But something would change if he did.

Olivia saw a new confliction in his eyes and she took her chance to move away. She was dangerously close to kissing him and she knew that if she did that, it would all be wrong. She made a move by wrapping the blanket around her and heading to the window to watch the snowfall into the street. Her hands were shaking so she set the coffee down on the windowsill and stared out into the street.

Peter kept his distance, but wanted to say something to her, but words couldn't form. He needed Olivia, he had decided this quite sometime ago. Walter was catching on, but his words rang so true in his ears. _She's just what you need, someone who can see right through you._ He sighed and ran his hand across his face. The sun that came through the window created a glow around her blonde hair and she looked utterly beautiful standing there. She was unnaturally still and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort her. Peter hesitates behind her and finally settles with pointing his hands in his pockets.

"I worry about you Olivia, everyday," he confessed, "I worry that you'll leave. I'm worry that I'll be alone. I don't want to be alone, not without you-"

"Do you mean that?"

It was a whisper, but he heard it. He stared at the back of her head as if she spoke a different language. What would make her think he didn't mean it? Did she not know how much he cared for her?

"Olivia," he began, snaking his hands around her waist so she spun to face him.

"Peter," she said, stopping him with a finger on his lips. He looked puzzled.

"I want to say something," she said looking into his eyes, "Promise me you won't interuppt."

He nodded.

"I'm, not the best with relationships Peter," she began with a small smile, "Last man I dated was a traitor to the country. I was terrible with boys in school and I'm even worse with them now. So which is why I have to say this Peter. Don't take it lightly when I say that I love you. I do. I just- I just know this won't work. You and I are so completely different and we want different things. And I-"

Peter grasped her finger lightly and stared at her with a gaze that stopped her speech. Carefully, without breaking eye contact, he held her finger and moved it away from her lips to her side. He brushed a hand through her hair and brought her face to his, staring intently into her eyes all the while. So gently, he brought his mouth down to hers.

It was gentle and it was kind, and it was the kiss that was meant for comfort. Comfort that was brought to tell her he loved her just as much. It was delicate and soft, so perfect that Olivia's eyes fluttered closed as he wrapped his arms around her neck. She felt home now, she felt like she was wanted. Peter showed her just how much she was wanted then. Peter told her without speaking, just how much he loved her.

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**And ta-da! It's complete! Cute? bad? Incredibly sappy? Tell me, did i hit the nail on the head with them or did Olivia seem to weak and Peter to love-sick? tell me please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Find Me**

**Olivia lies awake while Peter sleeps, but does he sleep?**

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The clock face burned into the dark night. The red light glowed 12:10 at her from its place on the nightstand. She ran her hand through her hair and stared at the roof. Why could she not sleep? Sighing, she rolled her head to the side, where Peter's even breathing brought her comfort. His sleep made her relax. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, the smell just soothing her tense muscles. He was her relaxation, the feeling of comfort and calamity that was so absent in her life. But at night, when the lights in the world went out and she was awake she found her serenity in his even breathing.

She didn't know it, but he was awake. He kept up his pretense of even breathing knowing it relaxed her. He heard her head shifted toward him and he almost smiled at her. But he didn't. He loved the small moments with Olivia. Ones like right now, where she would look at him and relax, the moments where her defenses where down and it was only Olivia. Moments like when she just gets out from a shower, her hair damp on her neck and a certain calm composure to her stance or the moments where she's standing in the kitchen deciding what to eat. Moments where she would not think he was watching, but he was. It was then that he felt at his best, knowing she was human too.

When her weight on her side of the bed shifted, Peter frowned. Opening his eyes he let them adjust to the room, watching as she pulled on a robe from the chair near their bed. She moved quietly to the doors that led to a terrace in their room. She pulled open the door and stepped out. Her hair blew out behind her as she stepped onto the terrace. Peter sat up slowly, rubbing his hair back before getting up himself. He wandered out behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, warming his skin against her robe.

"Peter," she gasped, startled that he was there, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," Peter answered softly with a smile. He kissed her neck lightly and nuzzled against her skin. Olivia stared of into the dark night.

"What's on your mind?" Peter asked with a soft voice. Olivia shrugged and wrapped her fingers over Peter's that lay on her waist.

"Nothing," Olivia answered to quickly. Peter smiled into the skin of her neck, his breath keeping her warm.

"I know that's a lie," Peter said, his lips kissing her skin again. Olivia stared up at the moon and sighed loudly

"Have you ever wished for, I don't know something normal?" Olivia asked.

"Normal?" Peter said lifting his head, "You suddenly want to be normal?"

"No," Olivia defended, "I just wonder what normal would be for us, you know."

"Frankly, Liv, I don't." Peter chuckled. Olivia spun around in his arms and glared at him. His light mirth was suddenly shot down in her glance.

"All right," he sighed, stroking back a strand of her long blonde hair, "If we were normal, if this world were normal, do you think we'd be together?"

She thought for a moment and then shook her head and smiled.

"I like being not normal now," she said with a smile. Peter agreed with a kiss.

"Now," he said gazing up at the moon, "Would you like to return to bed?"

"I'll be there in a while," Olivia said turning her face to the sky again.

"I'll wait," Peter answered. Olivia smiled and remained quiet.

Perhaps it wasn't the peace of the night that calmed her. Perhaps it wasn't the feeling that while the world slept she was still going. Maybe it wasn't because she could not turn her mind off at night or the coffee that wakes her in the morning or the alcohol she consumes at night. Perhaps the calamity of the night was simply because Peter was there, a Peter that was different from the rest, a Peter that promised time and time again that leaving her was no option. Yet she still felt one day, maybe she'd lose him forever and that was going to break her.

That fear kept him at bay for so long. She kept him an arms length away, neatly dodging his moves at every turn, like an elegant dance between professional dancers, twisting and turning at each step. He'd block her path with a fancy move and she'd twirl from his grasp. And like a beautiful ballet the world around would watch them dance, her movements always out of grasp of his.

He'd never falter a step, even when she'd literally crawl away from him. His moves were fluent and perfect while her steps would have mistakes, beats would be added, beats would be removed-her movements would become stiff and wrong to the sound of their music. But then she would regain her movement and slide away in a twirl. He'd clasp onto her waist and lift her in the air effortlessly. She'd worry he'd drop her, but he never had and he would not now. Just like a dance Peter had lifted her in the air and held her there. It was a feeling that she couldn't shake something so abnormal and weird, it almost felt in place.

His fingers brushed the back of hers, her long pale and bare fingers in his hands, the cold air being warded off by his hands so that her skin remained warm to his touch. He found himself at home with her warm skin. He found that her warmth and wellness kept him here, kept him still. He'd never held onto a relationship in his life, never felt anything past lust for anyone before and here he was for nearly 3 months sharing the bed of a woman that was stubborn, cynical, fearless and most of all venerable. He'd always told himself that he wasn't the hero type and yet here he played the hero for her. Was he any good at it? Probably not. He was probably a horrible hero, someone who'd more than likely need to be saved than was good at saving. And yet when ever Olivia was scared, which was rare, he was there with the right words, though he'd never have known it.

"I think I'll go back to bed," Olivia announced, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. Peter, whose face rested in her neck and eyes closed breathed out and opened his eyes.

"You sure?" he sighed lifting his head like it was much to heavy for his shoulders.

"I'm tired Peter, and I feel better," she said giving him a kiss, "You make me feel better."

Peter gave a grin to her, but his eyes were shining greatly. He wanted to scream on the rooftops that he made the emotionless Olivia Dunham feel better, but he restrained himself with a nod. Letting go of her he watched as she wandered back to bed-their bed and climbed in. She pulled the covers up and smiled at him. He looked at her.

She knew how to fix him, even when he couldn't. She found him, when he forgot himself and now she was staring at him with her perfect eyes, perfect hazel eyes. He almost felt selfish for taking them to himself, for keeping her beautiful face from others. But he knew, deep down inside, that this selfishness was someone a punishment for his mistake, but somehow this punishment backfired. Instead of being a punishment, Olivia Dunham was his heaven.


End file.
